The Darkest Side
by My Porcelain Persona
Summary: Dr. Nora Gray is a surgeon at Gotham General...with a dark secret. Joker/OC


**Songs Used for Inspiration:**

"**The Darkest Side" by The Middle East**

"**Love Will Take You" by Angus & Julia Stone**

"**Cold" by Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz**

"**Hundred" by The Fray**

Dr. Nora Gray slowly tied her shoes, forgetting to berate herself for letting a tear run down her face. She stood silently, unaware of the last of the morning shift's doctors in Gotham General Hospital's locker room returning to the chaotic world that had found its way into her supposed sanctuary.

Closing her eyes, Nora couldn't get the images out. Opening them, those damned pictures of reality still stood terrifyingly outside her lenses. She couldn't get away.

For the past month there had been nothing on the news but chaos. Her city was being brought down by a madman, whose face haunted every television channel and newspaper. Every moment Nora's stomach clenched, her body temperature went from freezing then numb and finally to boiling, sweaty hotness. She hadn't really slept in days. Dark circles underneath her eyes proved that fact; darting, unfocused eyes proved, furthermore, that whatever sleep she had gotten was useless and short due to the sorrow-filled nightmares. She just couldn't get away.

As much as Nora wanted to avoid the latest news about the horrible events in Gotham, desperately _needed_ to lose concentration on anything that related to the man that orchestrated every twist and turn within the city's walls, she just…couldn't. Every minute alone was torturous when she was left alone with her own her own thoughts, her own feelings, her own…memories.

So she found solace within the hospital, where now she had been, (unbeknownst to the other staff) for a whole week. She took shifts head-on like never before, relieved in every patient's visit, in every surgery. But today was different. The earth had shattered, and today the inevitable destruction of her peace would too. Today, hell had entered her floors, hopelessness spread itself through the air vents and into the oxygen the entire hospital breathed. Today, the District Attorney was admitted during the night.

It was all over the news, obviously. Nora clenched her coffee and watched with all her peers the previous day as they had thought the man had been caught, the hero had won, Gotham was safe. But no. No. _He _had won. Again. And on top of it all, he had escaped the police.

Harvey Dent was held in the safest room the hospital could offer. Everyone whispered, everyone wanted access, everyone _knew._ He had been taken and held hostage, and eventually burned severely. His face had been burnt almost perfectly half-way down the middle, the whispers say. He is conscious, they say. He refuses _pain medication,_ they say.

Nora refuses to leave until she has to. Taking one long, deep, utterly _useless_ breath, she looks at herself in the locker room mirror for the first time in ages. Hair unwashed for a couple days, makeup forgotten, the evident circles underneath her eyes, the paleness that wouldn't go away. She didn't care. How? _Why?_

She reached down into her pockets, sighing, then stopped all movement. She felt then, the little reminder of reality, the small charm that could bring back all the memories and feelings and _close your eyes and forget-forget-FORGET._

There, in her pocket, was the ring that she'd dug out of deep mountains of boxes- and shame- in the little closet of her small apartment about a month ago. She hadn't put it on. She hadn't even looked at it. She just kept it in that white coat, sometimes unthinkingly reaching down and grasping it, other times just fumbling around with it, as if in habit. Usually when she put this white coat on everything would vanish. The bad thoughts and images would go away. But not today. Today she couldn't get away.

Moving robotically, Nora Gray walked back into the early morning hospital floors. Other doctors, swiftly walking about, either glanced her way in recognition or were too busy to care. "Dr. Gray," a voice rang out. Nora looked towards the nurse's station. A middle aged nurse handed her some charts, and she set off to work without a word.

_Breathing is easier when there are other people to show you by example_, Nora had noted throughout the first hour of her morning shift. She had seen two children in need of stitches, an older man with a developing skin irritation, and a woman recovering from a spinal injury. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to screw up her concentration. Her strength level went up a couple points. _Maybe today won't be so hard._

However, as soon as she walked out of a patient's room, an expecting couple slowly walked by, hand in hand. Shock, sorrow, and pain suddenly filled her senses; she was rooted to the ground as her breathing picked up, tears threatened to flow down her face. She unconsciously grasped in the ring inside the white coat's pocket, _remembering, remembering._

_Her husband's face, beaming, as she walked down the aisle; herself overwhelmed, tears of just pure love and happiness glued to her eyes, a few falling onto the bouquet…being held in his arms, as family and friends danced, drank and laughed at the reception…coming home, making love…many months later, in the early stages of being pregnant, exhausted after coming home from meds school, being held in his arms again…days later, arguing, wondering what he's been doing while she's been at school, where is this money coming from? Who are these new friends showing up at the door? "Why won't you _tell _me, just please, tell me- don't leave-please-!" …Hours later, in the dead of night, he returns, both he and she fall asleep together, she's in his arms, his hands covering her belly…men burst in-noise, loud noise- take him away…she lies on the bedroom floor, bleeding, bleeding…ambulance…different loud noises now…her husband's face, torn and gashed…the baby…the baby…_

Nora leans up against the wall, people still coming and going. Breathing shakily, and tears running freely down her face, she unclenches her fist in the white coat's pocket. She's able to keep composure now. Pain is numbness and a dark cloud now. She can control it now. Taking a deeper, much needed breath, she realizes that the nurse was trying to wave her over to the nurse's station. Wiping tears off her face, she walked over, unaware of a pair of extremely black eyes following her every movement. She grasped the new- and lonely- chart in the nurse's hands.

"Is this the only one?" Nora heard herself say.

"You've been assigned the District Attorney's chart," the nurse said, peering over her glasses.

"What? He hasn't been seen yet? Why me?" The present reality was starting to make its way through Nora's dark cloud.

"Yes, he has been seen, and as you know he refuses pain meds. I don't really know why they want you in there…maybe to convince him otherwise?"

This was strange. If he had already been evaluated, why send another doctor in?

"Alright," replied Nora, who found herself sinking back into the dreariness. _Curiosity doesn't do much for a depressed person. _She headed towards the elevators, letting two male doctors go in before her, and muttering a _thanks_ to a nurse with flaming red hair for holding the elevator open for her, all the while avoiding eye contact with anyone. The whole hospital knew she was a mess. Why infect all those good people with big dark clouds of emotion when she could just stay silent?

Nora fumbled around with the ring a few times as the elevator made its way up a couple floors. She hadn't realized that her hand holding the ring had made its way out of the white coat's pocket before she quickly put it back in again. No one needed to know she was a head case with a ring. Glancing at the chart tucked underneath her arm, the elevator's doors swooshed open and she made her way out. Doctors were walking about this floor, as were plenty of policemen, but Nora saw no patients, no loiters, no family members. She surprised herself for knowing exactly where the room was when the dark cloud moved itself long enough for Nora to realize she was knocking on its door. No answer. She paused for a millisecond, wondering if she should announce herself, but decided against it. _I know how it's like to not want to be disturbed when your world just imploded. I can be quiet. Plenty of practice._

Nora walked in, bracing herself of course, for the inevitable look of the destruction of one of the city's greatest protectors. Remembering her dark cloud, and knowing about its infectious quality, she decided to be quiet yet helpful. Sometimes as a doctor, different qualities are needed for different patients. _Quiet but helpful, strong, quiet but helpful, smart, quiet but helpful…_she chanted these words inside her mind, vaguely acknowledging the red-haired nurse that followed her in, but instead the only word that stuck was the most basic, primal instinct: _Breathe._

She approached the bed cautiously, her subconscious noting indifferently that the nurse walked towards the opposite side of the room, obediently waiting for a doctor's direction, as the nurses do. Especially in times like this.

Harvey Dent was indeed awake, his head to the side, so the horrific burns did not show. Nora had seen burn victims before of course, but some didn't make it with half the damage this man had undergone. The dark cloud threatened to take over again when she thought of the cause for his traumatic injury, but she fought desperately to gain control once again.

"Mr. Dent?" She spoke carefully, quietly. No answer. But how was that surprising? "Mr. Dent, I'm Dr. Nora Gray. I'm a surgeon here, they sent me to look over you."

He spoke, his voice dark, so different from the campaign commercials, from his political speeches on the television. He spoke with his jaw clenched. "I don't want your help, Dr. Gray. You think after all the doctors I've seen so far, you'd be any different?" His voice had gone up an octave, and Nora witnessed for herself the destruction on the opposite side of his face. His head turned towards Nora, and she saw the bareness, the brutality, the brokenness. But she was far from repulsed. Nothing seemed to surprise her these days, especially not the dark cloud of pure sorrow and emotion in those eyes. Nora understood this quite well.

"I understand, Mr. Dent-" She started, but Harvey cut her off very quickly.

"_Understand._ What the hell could you- _any_ of you- possibly _understand?_ I am in _hell_, and none of your medication-_ nothing _- could help me. Do you understand that?" He sank back into the pillow and Nora regarded him quietly. His breathing was now harsh, his jaw still clenched. She made no move to come closer. He was right; there was nothing she could do. Nothing any of them could do.

"You're right, Mr. Dent," Nora said, watching as his eyes found hers again, peering over at her in a demanding way. "There is nothing I can do for you. I am…so sorry." She waited there a couple moments, unintentionally, looking at the floor. She realized though that the tears had started up again, and walked back and opened the door. She left Gotham's White Knight with only her words, and none of her medical practice. The exact opposite of what she was supposed to do. Nora had enough sense to put her hand against the elevator door to help the silent nurse that had accompanied her into the elevator, and then slumped up against the back wall.

"Gray!" Nora heard her name called as soon as the elevator doors opened. Dr. Brandon Kent was standing there with a team of nurses, all tending to a patient on a stretcher headed towards the Emergency Room. Kent looked quite stressed.

"Gray, I need you to take over! I have to get to surgery- there's a laparoscopy I need to get to- here-" Dr. Kent handed her the chart, and walked away as Nora started the brisk walk to the E.R….with the hearse. The patient did not look well at all, to say the least. The nurse closest to her started rambling off the information as they ran past the E.R. doors.

"Forty year old male, cardiac distress, his wife said he's 'prone to heart attacks,' has Coronary heart disease-" The nurse said other things as well, half of Nora's brain all consciously absorbing it, the other half starting to find its way back from the dark cloud. The stethoscope was out, her gloved hands doing their job, her brain recording all its data. But the patient was slipping. Nora's own breath seemed to stop when she realized his own had.

"Code blue!" She cried out, "I need a crash cart here!"

The crash team came out wickedly fast, as they always do. The defibrillator was placed and Nora put her hands on the device and ordered 100 volts.

"Clear!" The shock of the defibrillator caused the patient's entire body to convulse, but his heart beat did not pick up. "Two hundred!" She cried out again, and tried, but to no avail. "Damn it," she bitterly cursed, her voice cracking, the dark cloud definitely taking over as she threw the useless device aside, and started CPR. Nothing was changing. She stared at the heart monitor, wishing, hoping, _praying_ that this man would come back to life in her hands. The nurses looked around helplessly, checking for vital signs, ready for any direction, but Nora couldn't pay attention to them. Not even the one who stared into her weeping eyes and did nothing.

Nora knew this was her last straw. It had been approximately three minutes since this man's heart stopped beating, and another two would end up in brain damage, if he survived any of it at all. She raised her fist, her own heart hammering, her own breathing escalated, and hit the man's chest for all she was worth. Once, BAM! Twice, BAM! Three times…_beep!_ The heart monitor gave a little sound. Nora looked up, exasperated, as the machine showed signs of life. His heart was beating. He was alive.

Nora looked at the man's face, then at the nurses faces, her eyes blurry with tears. She took in a short, shaky exhale of relief, and smiled for the first time in weeks. It felt so odd to finally smile.

If only it could last.

Suddenly, three men came crashing into the room, all wearing clown masks and yelling- and carrying guns-

Nora gasped as one of the nurses cried out. The one holding onto the laryngeal mask airway almost stopped pumping air into the patients lungs, but glanced, horrified, back and forth between the intruders and at Nora. "Doctor.." she whimpered, before the men advanced on to the group.

"Hello, there, doctor," A tall clown said threateningly to Nora, leering at her ID. "Oh, I meant…_Dr. Gray._" Another man sniggered, while the last grabbed hold of Connie, the young nurse closest to him. "We thought we'd pay a little visit to the hospital before it got blew up." Nora's fight-or-flight response start to kick on. _Oh my god. Oh my god. What do I do, what- the hospital? What's going to happen? Oh my god-_

She gripped the stretcher before feeling the little stand of surgical instruments rub against her forearm. She watched the gunmen intently, listening to them speak. The sniggering man seemed to be eyeing Connie in the other man's grasp.

"Yo, man…boss wouldn't like it if we took hostages. We ain't even supposed to _be_ here, man-"

"SHUT UP!" The clown yelled, the one closest to the table, the one who seemed to be their leader. "He tells us what to do, where to go, what to wear- _all _day long. We should have a little fun on our own…what's the hurt? Place is screwed anyway-" He raised the gun and pointed it at Nora's head. The other women gasped, and Connie started to cry in the clown's merciless hold. "So why don't you come around that table, sweetheart? Maybe I'll take pity on you and let you go before the fireworks start."

Nora silently grasped the scalpel while he taunted her, but didn't need to react right away when a fourth clown came into the room. The clown in front of her was distracted…and so close, she could just reach across the table and-

Nora raised the scalpel and was in mid-strike when a yell erupted from her right, and she realized the sniggering clown had been watching her the whole time. She gasped as she felt the impact of his fist- no, not just his fist- a syringe struck right into her neck. Nora cried out, but the effects started right away. What- what was it? It was dizzying- she couldn't see straight- the clown removed the needle roughly and she swayed, and there was a clang before she realized a person to her left had pushed…maybe kicked…the clown to the ground, and she watched, horrified, before her knees gave out- and she was caught before she, too, could hit the ground.

Nora fought for consciousness. It was like being in one of here dreams again. One second, she was in a blur- white lights, indecipherable murmurs and the occasional yell, which made her jolt and thrash, but the next she was in the world of dark clouds and sorrow again. _His hands covering her belly, before being wrenched away- her baby, too, soon gone- forever…_

Her eyes finally opened- causing her to awake. She was in a darkened room, Nora surmised. Her breathing was harsh, and she realized she was covered in a cold sweat. The first thing Nora looked at was her own body, which seemed to be okay. There was definitely bruising on her neck, she could feel that. Still too out of it, she forgot to observe her surroundings. Sitting up and bending her legs to hide her face between her knees, she breathed in and out, in and out. Parting her lips, she momentarily recognized a stiff hospital blanket covering the lower half of her body- which she was pressing her face into. Nora quieted her breathing, noticing it had returned to normal, and slowly came back into her complete senses. Something caught them, however, and her body completely stiffened when she realized…she wasn't the only one in that dark room.

Nora gulped as she felt her eyes widen, and her arms, held around her stomach, clutched it closer, probably enough to bruise. As slow as she could, she felt the material drag across her forehead as she raised it to peer over her knees. Heart pumping wildly, Nora looked across the bed. There, seated and looking at her with his hands clasped between his knees, was the Joker, clad in a nurse's uniform. Her body made the involuntary response of gasping, but almost in slow motion, as if it needed to fully process what was happening.

She looked into his eyes. How they have changed…tears welled up inside her eyes, falling, onto her cheeks and the hospital scrubs below. She leaned back unthinkingly, still holding her own abdomen. As for him, he stared back, with those hauntingly black eyes that have tortured her for weeks. She left his gaze though, surprising herself, if normal thoughts could submerge, and looked at the features surrounding his eyes. The makeup, the hair, the clothes- all an act, all a complete person than she knew- she _knew-_

Nora looked back into the eyes of the man she once knew. Tears flowed now without constraint. She realized he was looking down at her stomach- where her hands were…where she cradled her own belly like she'd woken up and found herself doing so many times this past three years…

Their gazes suddenly interlocked, and Nora found herself speaking.

"I've missed you." She said so quietly, as her voice broke yet again. His gaze had been so intense, so dark, so unfamiliarly _familiar_, that her heart raced when his face suddenly stiffened, his forehead clearing of frown lines, and he looked the other direction as he leaned back into the chair, arms crossing. His lips moved, his tongue swept across the scar upon his lips. Nora looked down in sorrow before returning her gaze back up at him, seeing his eyes once again bore into her.

"I left…because…" Nora's voice was shaking, "_Not_ because I didn't love you…" Her gaze intensified, her voice strengthened, "But because…I couldn't bear it anymore." She shook her head. "I was so hurt. _You_ were…hurt. After you got better, and I…" Nora couldn't bear to say that she'd ever gotten any better. "I left because every time I breathed in your presence, I remembered. I remembered our baby…" Her voice finally broke again and he finally stood. The Joker moved over to her side, and she looked up at him. "Jack. Whatever happened, whatever is happening now…I have _always _loved you. I'm so sorry…so _sorry_ for leaving, for what you've become. I should have never-" He moved his lips again, his teeth biting down on the inside of his cheek- into the scars that now adorned his face. Still beautiful face.

He moved into the bed with her, and Nora moved aside so he could be next to herself, but he crushed her to him and slid an around arm around her, taking her face inside his hold. More tears moved down her face as she clutched his arms, and then took his face into her own hands. Her fingers entwined in his hair, his unwashed and poorly dyed hair, and they both pushed their own faces into the other's. Their breathing mixed and flowed onto each other's mouths while his paint-covered thumb traced her cheek, gathering salty tears. But more flowed when the other cheek wasn't merely touched but kissed, taking those new tears onto his red lips. She looked at his serious expression and down onto the very lips that had just kissed her. Nora moved her hand from his hair and to his cheek, which he followed with his mouth. Leaning into her touch, he kissed her palm, and closed her eyes at the feeling. The scars, so brutally present, so much of the reminder of those men that had done this to her husband, her love- the feeling against her own skin, and the makeup covering them. She moved forward and replaced her hand with her lips- onto his lips. Holding her even closer, his hand covered her stomach completely. She couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe. Neither of them cared. She traced his scars with her lips when they had finished, kissing him so softly where he had hurt- her heart clenching the entire time.

He told her to go home. To wait at her apartment. He would come back, he told her, and they'd leave together. He held her to him so tightly when they'd said goodbye- but not for the last time. Not even for the last time that day. But maybe they were making up for a goodbye lost long ago, but never forgotten. So she waits that night, her eyes glued to the window that exposed the sea; the news channel on. She waited. Today, she would get away. And so would he.

***I own nothing. Not The Dark Knight, or the songs used for inspiration. Thanks!***


End file.
